"When you come out of a storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in."
— Haruki Murakami
Your boots will be wet, damp edges seeping
into your socks, wicking up your jeans to your knees.
Unfurl the scarf, yank the cuffs. Shrug off the jacket,
the regret of never, the desolation of endings.
Pile your mittens and beanie, snuggled
like sleepy creatures, on the hearth.
Warm your hands on the kindling flame, on hope,
on memory, on something astonishing,
and when your fingers decide to yield,
turn your attention to the knots.
— Haruki Murakami
Your boots will be wet, damp edges seeping
into your socks, wicking up your jeans to your knees.
Unfurl the scarf, yank the cuffs. Shrug off the jacket,
the regret of never, the desolation of endings.
Pile your mittens and beanie, snuggled
like sleepy creatures, on the hearth.
Warm your hands on the kindling flame, on hope,
on memory, on something astonishing,
and when your fingers decide to yield,
turn your attention to the knots.
Susan Blackaby
Susan Blackaby is an Oregon children’s book author and winner of the 2011 Lion and the Unicorn Award for Excellence in North American Poetry. Dabbling across genres in children’s literature is familiar ground; wandering beyond those boundaries is a relatively recent and uncharted adventure. Her work has appeared in VoiceCatcher, The Gold Man Review, and Abandoned Mine.